


Shadow Realities

by Kim Gasper (mickeym)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-19
Updated: 2000-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/Kim%20Gasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fantasies can come true, and shadows aren't always bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Realities

The wood creaked softly as he leaned into it, letting it take his weight against the anticipated blows. Soft, supple leather caressed his wrists, holding them firmly in place, and his fingers curled inward helplessly, anticipatory and fearful in turn. Behind him were the soft exhalations of his partner, and the hushed sound of leather drawn between fingers. The air around him was tangy with the scent of sweat and semen, enriched by the musky scent of leather and the sweetness of beeswax. He drew in several long, slow breaths, exhaling just as slowly, willing his body to relax. This waiting was part of the moment. Part of the game.

A single bead of sweat tracked down his temple, down his cheek, following a slow path to his neck. It itched against his hot skin, calling his attention to himself and his impatience. Against his will he fidgeted and when the low chuckle sounded through the quiet he flinched, his face heating up with embarrassment.

He had just the muted whistle of leather through air for warning before fire exploded across his back, slamming into each muscle in his body. The *crack* of leather on flesh resounded around him and through him, filling the space inside him.

Another stroke slammed him into the wood, a third pulled a grunt from him. Over and over, the whistle-crack of the lash wove around him, spreading fire through his body, filling all senses with the different aspects of pain. Hot, bright, loud, and intense; it was as if his senses turned that one sensation into an all-over sensory experience.

Several more lashes followed, bringing him up onto his toes, grunting with his efforts to keep the pain inside, to hold it all deeply within himself. It was a banquet after starvation; a pond of cool, clear water after thirsting in the desert. Each stroke across his back was fire and ice, burrowing deep into all that he was, clearing his vision, letting him ~see~.

The strokes stopped, and he turned his head, letting the cool solidness of the wood touch his cheek, noting the dampness there that could have been sweat or tears or both. Behind him was silence, an almost anticipatory quiet. His throat felt too thick to release sound, and he cleared it roughly, forcing the words out, shivering at the harsh plea that fell from his lips.

"More, please. Don't...don't stop."

His answer was a soft, low chuckle, the words fluttering through his brain as a hummingbird might. "I won't."

The next lash felt as though it were flaying him open, laying bare to the lightest scrutiny all that he was. He felt exposed, vulnerable, utterly defenseless. Another one, this one striking his soul, uncovering his need, his desire, his joy in this giving up, this submission of self.

He was completely lost in the moment, filled with the pain sweeping through him and the pleasure he was deriving from that. Soft and loud around him was the sound of leather flying through the air and the soft crack as it struck him; reverberating through him, the sensations echoed in his scream, in the terror and exultation racing through him--

"JIM!"

Blair was in his face, screaming his name, and Jim sat up, clutching at the sheet as his mind tried to make the transition from the emotions and sensations of what had been his dream--

//A dream? That's all it was? It felt so ~real~!//

\--to the reality of nothing.

Nothing more than shadow fantasies again, then. Jim sighed and shifted back, cringing automatically, then flushing when he remembered the pain over his back wasn't real. It had been a dream.

If the pain was a shadow fantasy, Blair, at least, was a reality now. A reality in his life and in his bed; a friend, partner and lover all in one.

"Jim, talk to me, man."

His lover was still in his personal space, eyes wide with concern, face flushed from his abrupt wake-up call. Jim waved him back. "I'm okay, Sandburg."

"Well, excuse the hell out of me, for being worried." The other man shifted back to his pillow, voice sharp with sarcasm. Jim winced and reached out, hesitating just before his fingers touched flesh, then pulling back.

"Sorry, Chief. I just...it was a weird dream. I'm a little--rattled." //Yeah, that's a good way to explain it. Wonder what he'd think if I told him why I screamed in my sleep.// Ah, no. That was one place he wasn't going to go, at least not without major kicking and screaming involved. Some things were better left buried.

"I can buy rattled, man. But you were screaming like you were dying. Not just once, but over and over. What's up with that? What'd you dream about, anyway?" Blair settled back onto his pillow and Jim felt a flush of embarrassment work its way up his neck and face at the look he received.

"I dunno. I don't remember now," he lied, praying he said it convincingly enough.

"Uh-huh." Blair eyed him steadily and Jim sighed.

//I should have known better than to try.// "I really don't; it was just a...weird dream, and waking up made it that much weirder. It just kind of blew my mind for a little while." He frowned, remembering the feeling, the shock at the transition. "It was a very...sensory-oriented dream, and when I woke up, the sensation wasn't there, so it was...kinda hard to process, for a minute."

"Good sensory, or bad sensory?" Strong fingers gripped his wrist and Jim slid a glance downward, thinking of all the things those fingers had done to him, and all the things he would like them to do. Blair squeezed gently and Jim refocused, considered the question.

"It wasn't a question of 'good' or 'bad', per se," he hedged, pulling against Blair's hand until he could reclaim his arm. "It just ~was~. Now," he yawned and shifted downward, reaching out to tuck Blair's hand in against his chest. "Mind if we go back to sleep? Morning's gonna be here pretty quick."

"You're avoiding the question," his partner accused, sinking down on his own pillow and tugging the sheet up. "But I guess...if you don't want to talk about it, I can't make you."

"Maybe...later. Just not right now." Jim squeezed Blair's fingers, then released his hand. "'Night, Chief."

"G'night."

*****

It wasn't as easy as just going back to sleep, though, not when his mind continued to dance back over the dream, and all its possible meanings. After a while he gave up and just laid there, arms crossed behind his head, head turned to watch Blair's chest rising and falling slowly as he slept.

It'd been a while. He thought he was free of them. After tripping over that particularly amusing thought, Jim snorted. Why? Weren't shadows always a part of them, part of human nature? Needing the darker side fulfilled, sometimes?

He honestly hadn't thought the dreams would come back. After all, the showcased subject of them slept in his bed every night now. And if they didn't pursue the ~darker~ dreams, they did pursue at least a little more than 'just vanilla', as Sandburg had laughingly called it one night.

But, oh, God, every time the younger man laid his hand to Jim's ass, Jim would moan and sometimes find himself wishing it were a leather strap. Or a riding crop. Or a single-tail. He loved what he had, and wouldn't wish it away or risk it away for anything. But God help him, in the greedy dark depths of his soul...sometimes he wanted more.

Jim sighed and rolled onto his side. As humiliating as it had been to have Blair walk in on him that night, and see him in all his wide open, post-masturbatory glory, nothing but good had come of it.

Eventually.

Due mostly to the fact that Blair finally broached the subject. ~He~ would have sooner been dragged over hot coals as to open that topic, but then again, where his partner's tenacity was concerned, Jim didn't have a prayer of a chance.

It wasn't even so much that he didn't want to say anything, so much as he didn't know how or what to say. So unless Blair learned how to read minds, Jim was fairly certain he wouldn't ever find out. He simply didn't have a single clue how to tell his partner about the darker needs lurking inside him.

*****

Five more nights of dreams and Blair waking him out of screaming pleasure/pain. Jim was fairly certain something was going to have to give; his partner spent that morning over breakfast eyeing him up and down, probably noting the blue/purple shadows under his eyes, and the skin stretched taut from fatigue, but calmly not saying a word.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved, or annoyed.

//He has to know something's up...attributing it to PTSD? Bad dreams brought on by too much sugar in my diet? Too much late-night television?//

All plausible questions, except Jim knew Blair knew better.

And when the subject was of utmost importance, and as close and personal as this one was, Blair could out-wait even him, until the moment was absolutely the right one.

*****

"I shoulda been a psych major." Blair's voice was wry with amusement and Jim lifted his head from his contemplation of the TV guide crossword to regard him.

"What makes you say that?"

"D'you remember Suki? The TA you met when we were investigating the Hoskins' murder?" At Jim's nod Blair's face stretched to a grin that had to be equal parts amusement and disbelief. "She's a psych major. Behavioral. And one of the grad classes she's in is doing a study on sex practices in the US."

"And being who you are--"

"I wish I was in on that." Blair finished the statement for him, then laughed. Jim grinned.

"What, you don't think you're already knowledgeable on the subject?" In truth, his partner's creativity in the bedroom amazed him.

"Hey, man--this would just be research to see what else we could incorporate into our own repertoire." The younger man winked at him, and Jim felt his stomach do a slow roll. Dread? Anticipation? It was hard to know what to feel, since the moment seemed to call for nothing and everything, all at once.

"You want to...incorporate? More?" TV guide forgotten, he shifted position on the couch so he could see his partner better.

"Well, sure. It's important...so we don't, y'know, get stuck in a rut or something." One eyebrow raised, the vibrant blue eyes watching him carefully. "Don't you think so?"

The world wavered around him, clarity of vision dancing just outside his grasp, while a dark, suffocating kind of heat moved over him, pulling him into its depths. He heard himself agree, then ask, "What...what sort of stuff? Incorporate, I mean?"

Sandburg shrugged. "Dunno. Just, whatever comes to us. What're you interested in?"

"I don't--" A strange sort of panic gripped him and he shook his head, voice gritting out harshly, "Nothing. Things are fine like they are."

"~Don't~ try to bullshit me on this, Jim." Eyes that should have been the color of azure now looked almost black, the depths hidden to him behind a curtain of auburn hair. Hidden behind his own fear to look deeper. "You want more, don't you? More than we've been doing; more than I've given you."

And just like that, the moment was there.

//I'm not ready to talk about this! I don't know what to say...I don't want to lose what I have...what ~we~ have....// The pencil in his hand, ostensibly to do the crossword, snapped in half. Jim gazed at it dumbly for a minute, then nodded, feeling disconnected from the motion. That hadn't been his head moving, had it? He was sure he hadn't meant to do that. Conversely, the minute it was out, he was relieved. It sang through his veins, creating a lightness he hadn't felt in...far longer than he could remember.

"I thought so." Blair's voice was quiet, thoughtful. He rose from his chair at the table and perched on the arm of the couch in front of Jim. "How long?"

"How long what, Sandburg?" Irritation skimmed over him, diluting some of the freedom that had flitted through his body a moment ago.

"How long have you wanted more? Or different? What do you want, Jim? Or...need?"

"I--" Abruptly he snapped his mouth shut, nearly catching his tongue between his teeth. This wasn't just a question of want or need; it was a question of ~could~, as well. Could he have it? Could Blair give it to him? Could he take it, if he got it?

The last time he'd had it had been a long time ago, in a different life.

//A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away....// Jim snickered at the unbidden thought, then sobered when he caught the quiet regard with which Blair studied him. His stomach knotted up and he blurted, "Can you give it to me?"

"It depends on what, exactly, we're talking about here...but I would say probably, yes."

"I want--" Deep breath, trying to think of a way to phrase it; trying to find the words for the need within himself. The shadows on the wall laughed at him, mocking his inability. He snarled--at them, at the ones in his mind--and threw the words out. "I need freedom. I need...to not be in control. I need...sensation." He whispered the last word, in his mind substituting 'pain' in its place, but not willing to say it out loud yet. Not until he knew if Blair would be repulsed, interested, horrified, what. His brain throbbed from having to put words to the images, to the feelings, and he started as he realized he'd left one thing left unsaid. Raising his eyes to meet Blair's, he said hoarsely, "I need that...from you."

Blair was silent, watching him closely, and Jim began to wonder if he'd done the right thing in telling him that. After all, he'd been dealing with these needs for a while--

//What, dreams every night is ~dealing~?// His brain sneered at him. He sneered back. //Fuck off! I'm doing the best I can here.// He could almost hear the chuckle of amusement. //Oh, yeah, you're doing so well, Jimmy-boy. You can't even--//

"Just to clarify," Blair's voice startled him out of the argument with his own thoughts, the low voice smoothing over him, calming and soothing him. Centering him. "What exactly are we talking here? Domination and submission? Sado-masochism? What level do you need? How often?"

Instead of putting him more on edge, Blair's questions calmed him somewhat; made him think about his needs, consider them. When he met the calm gaze still watching him, he flushed only a little, and mostly from imagining what might be possible now.

"I have...I ~had~ a fantasy. And the dreams I've been having--" Okay, maybe not so easy to say this. Jim considered his partner, then turned the tables slightly. "Have you ever...played before? Done a scene?"

A very different sort of light than what he'd grown used to seeing in those dark eyes gleamed at him; something that looked almost...predatory. The hunter within him recognized it, recognized the dominance for what it was. The prey within him stirred, and Jim had to force that part of himself not to bow his head back and bare his throat in submission.

"I've done some. Played a few scenes. Nothing real heavy, but I'm always willing to learn." Blair shifted down onto the couch beside Jim, crossing his legs lotus-style under him. "Why don't you tell me what it is you need. Your dreams, fantasies, whatever. Hit the outer limits, man. We can talk it all over, then decide where to start."

//'We can talk it all over'. What do you want, Jimmy? This is the chance to tell him...this is the time...he's here, he's willing, he's ready...//

"I had a--roommate, in college," the hoarseness of his own voice startled Jim, and he cleared it quickly, trying to inject a little casualness into this moment. "He was...into pain. Well, no, that's not it. He was into sensation--all kinds of sensation. He did scenes as a switch, and told me once that he liked to see both sides of the coin, though he preferred being on the receiving end."

"Did he get you into it?" Blair's voice was calm, his face and body relaxed, accepting. Jim breathed in slowly and nodded, watching closely for any change in that acceptance.

"Yeah. Well, I guess...I was just...waiting for it, in a way." He laughed, a low, bitter sound. "The funniest thing is, all those years chaffing under my dad's control, and what's the first thing I do? Go out and get myself into a situation where someone else has the control. I must have been a nutcase."

"Nah, I don't think so. It's not the same thing, Jim. Unless you were into playing daddy/son scenes, looking for the same thing--?" Blair cocked an eyebrow at him and Jim shook his head. "I didn't think so. But...giving up control, letting someone take the responsibility ~isn't~ the same as being controlled, man. You had no choice when you lived at home. Your dad was in charge, period. You lived by his rules, his desires, et cetera. But in a scene situation...or not even anything that ritualized, just two friends or lovers playing, giving up control to them is something you choose to do...and it makes your experience that much more intense. And more pleasurable."

"Thought you weren't into psych, Freud." The familiar, low-level mix of irritation and amusement skimmed over Jim again, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Just as a minor, a while ago." Blair smirked, then relaxed back. "Seriously though, I'm not trying to analyze you, man. Just...trying to go with it, see what you need from me. And ~you~ were the one who said you were a nutcase. I was just making a point for how you're not."

"Well, thanks." Jim resisted the urge to squirm, but only just.

"So...answer the original question, man. I can give you what you need - I think - but I gotta know what you're needing."

"The fantasies I've had...of you...of that...I was getting whipped." Holes never appeared in the floor when they were needed. Jim shifted uncomfortably then risked a glance over toward his lover. "I've never really...~talked~ about this. We just...whoever...always knew, and we just did it."

"Feeling awkward?" Sandburg unfolded himself and headed for the kitchen, returning briefly with two beers. Jim accepted his gratefully. The cool bottle felt good against the heat radiating off his face and neck.

"You have no idea."

"Sure I do, Jim. It's not like this is a piece of cake for me--you aren't exactly the most forthcoming guy to talk to."

"So you've said before."

"And I'll probably say it again before we're dead and buried." Sandburg popped the top off his bottle.

Jim followed suit and the rich, malty aroma of beer filled the space around them. He breathed deeply, wondering if a buzz would help any. He doubted it. "If I'm so hard to talk to, why d'you bother with me then?" He took a drink, swallowing hard against the rough, tight spot still in his throat.

"Well, you know." Sandburg flapped his hand, the warmth in his eyes belying the teasing tone and words. "Money, sex--the usual things."

"Yeah, right." He took a long drink, then tilted his head to look at the ceiling. "All I want...need...is for you to take the control away from me sometimes. I don't care if it's through pain, humiliation, bondage, whatever. I like all of those. I don't want it all the time, but I need to have it some of the time." The words were out now; he couldn't recall them. All he could do was sit, staring at the ceiling, waiting in agonizing silence for Sandburg's answer.

"I can do that."

The quiet starkness of the words surprised him and Jim dropped his head to stare at his partner. Blair's eyes were solemn, full of warmth, of understanding. Dark blue, almost fathomless; if he stared long enough, Jim thought he could see forever in there. Maybe he could.

His throat was tight again; it didn't want to work, and the words were hard to force out. "Thank you." He paused, hoping he wasn't pushing, but needing to push a little, until they knew this routine well. "When?"

"Tonight. Now is as good a time as any." Sandburg's answer was crisp, decisive, and it removed any doubt or question that Jim might've had. He found himself nodding.

"What should I do?"

"Do you have anything here? I get the feeling you haven't bottomed like this in a while."

"I haven't...but I--I have a few things...and I have a leather belt--" That heat crept up his face again, but there was a lightness inside him that made it hard to care. Sandburg nodded, unfolding himself again.

"That'll work. For now. We might have to make other arrangements later; I'd love to have to explain to the neighbors why they heard a whip cracking and you screaming your head off." The visual of that made Jim frown. Too bad fantasies didn't include realistic stuff like that.

"You could gag me." //Please.//

"I could." Another nod. "But not the first time out, Jim. I really haven't done this a lot, and not for a while, either. I don't want to risk--y'know. Anything going wrong."

"I understand." Jim stood up, almost lightheaded from the surge of emotions coursing through him. Anticipation, shock, surprise, trepidation. Love. He leaned forward and gave Sandburg a quick, hard kiss. "Thanks."

"I haven't done anything yet, man." He looked pleased just the same and Jim found a grin teasing at the edges of his mouth.

"You agreed, Chief. That's a big thing right there."

"Yeah, well. When you're bitching about how it hurts to sit in that hard chair of yours at work tomorrow, I'll remind you that this was ~your~ idea."

"Trust me, I'm not going to bitch." Jim kissed him again, then stepped back. "I'm gonna take a shower, get cleaned up."

There was a pause, then Sandburg looked at him, and Jim could almost ~see~ the power settling over him. It reflected in his eyes, in the sharp look leveled at him, and in his voice, the quiet, precise tone he used. "Don't dress at all afterward. Make sure you lube yourself. Then come upstairs to me. Understand?"

Jim nodded, his throat too thick to say anything. Their gazes held for a moment longer, then Jim dropped his, turned and headed for the bathroom.

*****

The light of numerous candles flickered against the wall behind the stairs when Jim emerged from the shower. The steam that gusted out of the bathroom and into hall pulled the thick scent of herbs, beeswax and something else he couldn't identify back toward him. It was a good mix; whatever the unknown ingredient was, it wasn't unpleasant, and he found himself breathing deeply, centering himself. Calming himself. A small smile curved his mouth; it had to be on purpose, done with Sandburg's deft touch.

The water bottle on a folded towel on the table, still chilled from the refrigerator, was another one of those small things that was singularly ~Blair~.

Jim stared at the bottle for a moment before picking it up and taking a long drink, his thoughts swirling around inside his head.

//It's the little things that say *I love you*. Not the words themselves. He knows I'm nervous. As bad as I want this, if it doesn't work, it could change so much between us. Do I need it enough to risk what we already have?//

No answers lurked inside the bottle. He'd have to climb the stairs, then wait and see.

Going up the stairs nude wasn't any sort of change in their normal routine; going up alone was. He and Sandburg had showered together frequently in the months since sharing a bed. His lover argued that it was good conservationism, which Jim returned was a theory shot to hell since they always took longer and used more water when they were in there together.

But it was a great way to get clean.

Enough stalling; what he wanted, what he'd asked for, was waiting upstairs. If he waited too long, Blair might think he wasn't really interested.

Going up the stairs was like walking into his dream.

The loft bedroom flickered with the light he'd seen reflected on the stairwell. Jim stood at the landing and looked around, taking in as much as he could. //Total sensory experience. I could never have this with anyone else. No one else would understand.// Blair had laid an old sheet over the bed, covering the comforter and blankets. It was a white sheet, washed many times until it had a soft, comfortable feel to it. They'd used it once or twice when they'd had sex downstairs, and it had been wonderful to lie on, to rub against. The fan on the dresser was on, rotating at medium speed, moving the scent of candles and herbs all around him, blocking out other noises. A natural white-noise machine. Four pieces of cloth attached to each corner of the bed; when he stepped further into the room Jim could see they were neckties. He hadn't realized he and Blair owned four between them.

His mouth went dry when he realized where they were placed, his brain supplying the ~what~ they were intended for.

His heart thudding a little harder, his breath coming a little faster, Jim stepped completely into the room, looking for the source of the scent and heartbeat he knew as well as his own. Blair.

His lover - master? - stood beside the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, watching as Jim looked around, tested the room against his senses. Long curls were drawn back from his face, tied securely with a leather band. Blair had changed into a loose pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Nothing overtly sexual or masterful, but then, Jim was naked. Any clothing made all the difference at this point.

Placed on the dresser where he could see them were his leather belt, his nipple clamps, and one of his butt-plugs. Nothing else, save for more candles. And the look in Blair's eyes as he unfolded from his position and came to stand in front of Jim. After a long, long pause, accompanied by a deep, searching look, Blair raised his hands to run them over Jim's biceps, his voice low but distinct.

"Pick a word. We don't play without one."

His tone delivered very precisely his intentions that there would be nothing without it. Jim nodded, his mind racing for something, anything. "Uh...panther." His mouth twitched when Blair smiled. His partner took the forgotten bottle of water from his hand and settled on the dresser, then nodded at him once again.

"Panther. And if you need to slow down, but stay in scene?"

"Army."

"Army." Blair repeated the word, then nodded. "I found your toys, Jim. Are you ready?"

Maybe. No. Yes. Shit. He shuddered, blurting the words before he could stop them. "I don't want anything to go wrong!"

"Wrong?" Blair turned him, stepping up to his back, arms curving around him. Warm, lightly callused hands stroked his belly, his chest, and he found it wonderfully difficult to keep his train of thought. "Wrong in what way?"

"I don't want...don't want to ruin what we have if this doesn't work."

"Why wouldn't it work?" His partner countered, fingertips lightly caressing over his nipples. Before he could answer the sweet, light sensation was gone, and Blair was turning him so they were face-to-face, fingers touching his chin, his cheek, eyes holding his own. "Jim, I wouldn't do this at all if I thought there was a snowball's chance in hell that it would mess with what we have already. You're too important to me...~we're~ too important to me." Another pause, a searching look that seared Jim deep inside, spreading heat and need through him. "We either do this, or we don't. No agonizing over it one way or the other. If this is what you want, then I want to give it to you. If you don't want it, say so. I ~can~ give you what you need. I won't make the decision for you."

From somewhere far away he heard his voice, hoarse, rough, full of emotion. "I want it. Please. Please...Sir."

"Yes."

Blair's voice was calm; when Jim dared a look, only his eyes showed a wealth of emotion moving through him. Dark, dark blue eyes, like an ocean at midnight, blue-black and bottomless, sparkling with the glint of starlight and moonbeams. Strong fingers kneaded his shoulders, then pushed, pushing him down, until his body moved on auto-pilot, his brain not connecting with the muscles.

"You need something from me." So calm, so very precise. Jim shivered, nodded, arousal and need and love and hunger stirring inside him, ravenous from the long wait.

"Yes, Sir. I need--"

The fingertips caressing his face became a hard, stinging slap, rushing heat into his face in the form of pain from the strike and embarrassment from the reprimand.

"Did I ask?" Blair cupped his chin, tilting his head back. So cool, that voice, those eyes; not at all like the dynamo that surged over him whenever they had sex. "I don't remember asking you a question. Nor giving you permission to speak." The fingers tightened on his chin and Jim closed his eyes briefly, unable to dilute the hunger surging in him. He answered with a nod, stomach tightening when a slow smile spread over Blair's face. "Tell me what you need, Jim."

More heat flaring within him, burning and soothing at the same time. It felt so good; glowing within him like a small sun. "I need...to be...to f-feel. To hurt. To n-not be the one deciding. Please." He stumbled over the words; his tongue felt thick and unwieldy, the motions too hard for him to manage.

"Submissive to my desires? Even if I want to hurt you?"

"Yes." It was hard to resist the urge to pull his eyes away, to fidget, but he held on. Blair obviously wanted to see him, to see the emotions shining in his eyes.

"Then that's what you'll have." His partner moved closer, leaning to reach him, nuzzling at Jim's mouth, licking the corners with the tip of his tongue. Pleasure flowed from Blair into himself, warm and sweet, tinged with darkness when hard enamel nipped sharply at his lips, causing a burning sting. He moaned softly, his cock rising, his body erupting in goosebumps.

The world exploded into vivid 3D around him when Blair leaned in and ground his mouth forcibly down onto Jim's. No part of his mouth went untasted or unexplored, the slick tongue pushing and pressing, teasing his own into submission. A series of increasingly sharp nips that started with the tip of his tongue and ended at his collarbone ended the kiss, leaving Jim quivering, whimpering, needing so much more.

"Please," he dared softly, his voice shaking with need. "Please, Blair--"

"You beg very nicely." Blair's voice was amused, but not unkind, and Jim relaxed back, the warmth of the familiar touch mingling with anticipation of the unknown. "Close your eyes."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, until he remembered that in this place, this moment, it didn't matter why. Blair's reasons were his own; if he wanted to share them with Jim he would, or wouldn't, at his discretion. His lids fluttered shut and he listened closely, body taut again, waiting, wondering.

He heard the scrabbling on the dresser when Blair picked something up, a dulled sound against the finished surface of the furniture. Something passed before his face - Blair's hands? - then he felt a cool, almost cold sensation against his right nipple as Blair placed the first clamp around the small, erect bud. His partner laughed softly when he fitted the other over Jim's left nipple. "You're either cold, scared, or excited. Which is it, Jim?"

"All three," he said softly, fighting the urge to tremble.

"Fair enough. Keep your eyes closed." Blair's fingers were warm against him, tightening the clamps down around the sensitive buds. Jim breathed in deeply, pulling the sensation into himself. Not painful yet, but uncomfortable, the trapped blood throbbing each time his heart pumped. He shivered once, groaning very softly when Blair twisted each screw once more. There was quiet for a moment longer and Jim used it to even his breathing, to steady himself. Blair moved back from him, then strong fingers curled into his shoulders, pulling at his flesh. "Up, Jim, and onto the bed. Face down, knees bent, your ass up in the air. I'll call that 'present', and expect you to get into that position whenever I say it. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." The words slipped out quietly, tinged with respect, as he shifted himself up and onto the bed. Each movement made the chain between the clamps shift, jingling softly. The dull throb as his nipples engorged increased, pushing his arousal a little higher. His knees shook and everything within his body seemed on the verge of short-circuiting, he was so excited.

The position Blair wanted him in seemed to take him forever to get into. It wasn't a difficult one, but his body and his brain were operating under different commands and controls now, and he couldn't quite make the two coordinate at first. Finally, ~finally~ he was up there, kneeling with his cheek pressed against the mattress and his ass up in the air. It was embarrassing, to say the least, especially when Blair's fingers stroked over his cleft, his low comment circling like a vulture.

"Very pretty. We should have done this a long time ago." Warm fingers probed into him with no warning, and Jim stifled a grunt as his body opened, pushing against the intruders. "Very nice. Oiled, just as I told you. Good boy."

Warmth suffused him then that had nothing to do with the sharp smack that followed the words, and he grunted again as that warmth joined the rest, circulating directly into his cock. Another sharp smack, closer to his hole made him shift restlessly, nervously, earning him a third that covered the tender area, sending pain blossoming hotly up his nervous system. He groaned softly and Blair pinched him, one finger inside his body, the other rubbing against his perineum.

"No sound yet, Jim. Hold your pain inside. Hold it in for now, feel it as it moves through you." Blair's voice was soft, calm, controlled. The same voice that talked him out of zone-outs, and through dangerous situations. This time encouraging him to hold it in, to feel it, to let it take him over. Blair pinched again and Jim bit his lip, eyes closed tightly as each part of him mirrored the sensation and threw it back at him. Bright, tiny bits that sparkled hotly within him, slowly gathering size and strength. His body surged, soaking up the feelings.

A line from a song he'd heard somewhere drifted through his mind then, making him shudder.

_//There's no one home, in my house of pain...//_

~He~ was home. His pain, his pleasure, his release. The release he needed, craved, longed for. Jim whimpered softly when Blair pinched him again, two fingers inside him grabbing roughly through thin skin for the fingers outside his body.

Strong fingers held him open, his hole dilating, pulsing with its need to close against outside intrusion. Jim shuddered but obeyed the unspoken command to hold still. This was only sensation, not even painful, and he trusted Blair; trusted him with his life.

Smooth, cool rubber touched the rim of his asshole, pulling quaking shudders from him as it circled delicately, smearing more slick stuff onto and into him. The tip pressed against him, pushing at muscles already tense from their open position and Jim stuttered a groan when his body convulsed, trying to pull at the teasing object. His cock throbbed hotly against his belly, drooling precome to mix with the sweat beading up over him.

"Please...please, put it inside me..." He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until the smack against his balls erupted fire through his pelvis.

"Don't be so impatient, Jim. This is just a tease; surely a big, strong man like you can handle a little teasing?"

"Hot," he whispered through clenched teeth. "I'm so hot..."

"You'll be hotter before you cool down. Trust me."

It took everything within him not to cry out with joy and terror at that softly-offered promise. ~Finally~. Finally, he would get what he'd needed for so long, from the one he'd wanted it from.

"Now where were we?" Blair's soft musings above him floated into his ears and down his cerebral cortex, mingling within his nervous system with the arousal and not-quite-pain that were already lurking there, waiting. "Ah, yeah. I think we were ~here~."

Blair shoved the plug inside him; it pressed his passage open, moving up through him. It didn't hurt; rather, it felt glorious, filling him up, increasing the pressure inside his body.

Only Blair's hand tugging on the base of his cock, pulling his balls down kept him from spending.

"I think next time we'll have to take precautions," Blair said softly, still holding Jim's throbbing cock. He could feel the shudders echoing within himself, pulses of light that flashed, then ebbed, then flashed again. A long, deep breath helped him ride it out, his shudders turning to gentle tremors, then to nothing more than an occasional shiver. "That-a-boy," his partner whispered, bending to bite gently at one cheek. "Close, hmm? Feel good?"

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, his body aching for relief, for pain, for...anything. Any kind of sensation Blair wanted to give him.

"Are you ready, Jim? Ready for the main course?" Light smacks and slaps were falling on his upturned ass, brief stings, almost like a bee or mosquito, here then gone, reappearing a few inches away, in a random pattern. He nodded, his chest tightening, constricting with anticipation.

"I'm ready, Sir."

"Good. Straighten yourself out and stretch out your arms and legs, reach for the corners of the bed." Blair's hands were warm and steady, helping him shift, easing muscles that had cramped slightly. Jim turned his head so he could see Blair; could see the dark curls and darker eyes backlit by candlelight, seeming to shimmer in the soft glow.

"Thank you," he whispered again, eyes closing. Nothing to do now but breathe, and wait for what was coming. Blair's hand touched his hair, then the nape of his neck in response before moving to secure the restraints. He systematically looped each one over a wrist or an ankle, then tightened them just to the point of securing him, but not to the point of discomfort.

"How many?" Blair asked softly, his voice adding to the atmosphere. Warm and easy, lulling Jim into a dark, quiet place in his mind. That special place he couldn't find alone.

"It's been...a while," he answered, his voice just as low. "I used to take a lot...dozens...but it's been years. I didn't have...I don't know." He drew another slow, deep breath, letting it out gradually, feeling more and more of the nervous tension leaving him, replaced with a very different sort of tension.

The cool leather appeared beside his head, the scent deep and rich, musky with the oils used to cure it. Jim breathed in the heady scent, moving to rub his cheek against it. "Kiss it, Jim. Then I'll give you what you're needing, the amount to be at my discretion, my determination."

It wasn't any chore to press his lips to the smooth leather; beneath them, through them, he could feel the variations in the texture, the odd striations here and there. He could taste the oil, and the leather itself. He lost himself for a time in a gentle, needy exploration of the belt with his mouth, taking a moment to make it a part of himself.

Above him, from outside himself, and yet a part of himself, of the warm place he was in, he heard Blair's voice, amused and understanding, laced with love. "You like to worship. That's good to know." A pause, and fingers teased over his back, over the bumps and ridges, making him shiver. "No cries for the first three, Jim. I want you to hold it all in, feel it rushing through you. Feel it overwhelm you and take you to the place you want to go. If it's too much for you to handle, or you think you may zone, you need to let me know immediately. This is for your pleasure, but there are rules; if you break them, I can figure out something that won't ~hurt~, but will no doubt be punishment. Do you understand me?"

Hazily he nodded his head, understanding the warning for what it was. There was no way to tell for certain how he would react to a higher level of pain. So far all it had done was warm him up, make it easier to sink into the shadows he'd wanted but hadn't been able to reach. He nodded again, another breath in, then out slowly. The leather belt moved from beside his face, and a warm hand touched his head briefly.

"All right, then."

The leather creaked softly; he doubted Blair heard it. A "micro-noise", he'd called it once. Another creak as it threaded through his partner's hands, warming, flexing, becoming supple and ready. An extension of Blair, representing pain, love, joy, terror, all things shadowed and bright. The loud swish and sensation of air molecules hurling faster than normal made him tense again and Blair's soft voice slipped through him. "Relax."

//Hard to do...so hard to do...// He writhed inside, wanting this, hating the anticipation and buildup as much as he loved them.

The first slap of leather-on-skin resounded through him with a fierce, sharp ~crack~, like lightning and thunder during a summer storm. He shivered, biting down on his cry of surprise, swallowing it back into himself. Droplets of sweat formed on his forehead and he rubbed it against the bed, his skin so warm, the blood rushing to the surface where the leather struck.

The second and third made him push against the mattress, his fingers curling inward as he held his cries in. Not...painful, not yet. But sensation so keen, so acute, it felt like spikes of bright, white heat driving through him, all concentrated in the area of his ass.

Stroke number ten made him grunt, the deep-throated cry emerging hoarsely, his body shaking with its effort to keep it inside. Fire tore through him, blossoming hotly in one spot, then another, making his eyes water and sting. He couldn't stop it, could only take it, making each evenly spaced blow a part of himself. Leather caressed flesh, cool, then warmer, then hotter than molten lava. It was like a flame licking at him, charring him, taking him apart and putting him back together.

Number fifteen in his head made him cry out, loud and gasping, his body jerking against the bonds holding him. It felt as though welts criss-crossed his ass, hot, burning streaks rising up from his skin. He pulled on the bonds, crying for Blair to stop, to leave off, he didn't want this any longer. It hurt; it was beyond what he thought he'd wanted, beyond what his body needed. Another stroke, opening his heart to himself, letting him see inside, beginning the dizzying rush upward. Yet another, leaving him cringing and crying, but rejoicing in the way everything tunneled around him, dimming into background noise. White noise.

A welt laid across another made him groan, his body convulsing as the pain took him another step higher, crossing the threshold of nearly unbearable to something that ~was~ bearable, was a part of him. Three more sent him flying the rest of the way, certain he didn't exist any longer except as fire and bright light, the pain on his ass making it hard to breathe as it was like a live thing, clenching him, tightening around him, holding him in until he absorbed it, the live thing becoming ~him~.

"Please!" he shouted. "Please, Blair...pleasepleaseplease...!"

In answer Blair undid the bindings holding his arms and legs, and shoved a pillow beneath his hips. "You're so beautiful, Jim, writhing and groaning like that. I want you so bad, man." Cool fingers, nearly cold against the heat of his skin, pressed and touched, fingering each welt, drawing a line of fire down his cleft, to circle his opening. He shuddered with each touch, sobbing and flexing his hands, but not moving. Each welt held a wealth of sensation and each sensation made him feel more relaxed as he accepted he couldn't do anything but feel it. His body clenched tightly around the plug within him, and he gasped and relaxed when Blair smacked his stinging, burning, aching ass, withdrawing it quickly while he groaned.

More heat, so much more, enveloping him and smothering him, opening him up to the joy of flying through the shadows. Blair's cock, thick and blunt, pushing at his open hole, teasing him until he pressed back, sobbing his need, wanting the final submission, to be gasping and groaning beneath his lover.

It was like being split open, electricity streaking through him, lighting him up. Thick, hard, hot cock sliding into his body in one long, smooth stroke, opening him, taking him. He shuddered and pressed down against the bed, rubbing his own aching cock against the cool smoothness of the sheet. Cool and hot, mixing around him, within him. Blair's body was hot, almost unbearably hot on the aching welts striping his ass, but the sensation of having them touched was so exquisite, neither pain nor pleasure alone, but a weird combination of the two. Jim sobbed again, arching backward, groaning when Blair rested fully within him. He could feel the thick organ throbbing, each pump of Blair's heart making the large vein tickle and tease at the tender skin surrounding it.

"You're so hot, Jim... inside, outside...it's like being dipped into heat..." Blair's voice was a thick, throaty gasp; his words punctuated by small cries as he shifted and thrust home again.

"Yes..." Jim dug his fingers into the sheet, clutching for purchase, for something to hold him against that last barrier. There was nothing; just the sensations assailing him, pushing him higher, further, deeper, faster in time with the rhythm Blair was setting for them.

No gentle lovemaking this time; this was fucking, fast and furious, so much erotic tension and buildup between them. Jim ached; his entire body, from his head, trying to process so much input at once, to his belly, with muscles now relaxing that had tensed during the strapping - and before - to his cock, and down to his ass. Everything in between and in parts he hadn't considered. But it was an ache he savored; the blissful, relaxing feeling of knowing all he had to do was accept it. It would meld with him, become a part of him when he opened to it, and it was coming with such a ferocity that he couldn't stand against it. He would give in. He had given in.

"Fuck me...fuck me harder, please..." He pushed his hips back, wiggling them, making Blair groan and lean down to bite his neck.

"You won't...sit for...days...without hurting..." Blair gasped the words, pulling a smile from him.

"It's worth it," he whispered, tightening himself around Blair, humping the pillow and mattress beneath him. Blair's hand slid around his hip and cupped him, stroking his length gently with fingertips only before tightening, gripping harder. Jim yelped once, then groaned, moving his hips in an awkward rhythm to pump into the hand grasping him. "God...Blair..."

"I want you to come, Jim...your whole body feeling it. Pain, pleasure, all of it mingled. I want your ass to ache and your cock to burn..." Blair fisted his cock, pumping slowly, then harder and faster, increasing the rhythm to match their fucking.

"Yes...yes..." He wanted whatever Blair wanted. He wanted it to never stop; wanted to feel this good and this bad all at once, for forever, if possible. The ache inside him intensified, magnified, and when Blair thrust hard, rubbing against his prostate, it was too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure, too much ~everything~. With a groan that surged into a howl Jim shoved back on the cock impaling him, then bucked forward into the hand holding him, hips pumping frantically as orgasm overtook him.

Blair's hand milked him, pulling on his aching, throbbing cock until he was certain it would come off. The sensations arced through him, making his head spin wildly. Blair surged within him, pulling another howl of pleasure from Jim as he emptied himself in thick, pulsing spurts deep inside.

He was flying too high, feeling too much to be more than peripherally aware of the heat of Blair's body collapsing onto his, the weight pressing against the welts on his ass. He knew they were there; he could feel each one as they throbbed. But there was so much input right now, so much demanding his attention that he just ~feel~, that the secondary pain ceased to be important.

"I love you." The words floated from inside him, their passage light and easy, not at all difficult like he'd thought they might be. Vaguely he wondered why it seemed right to say it now, when he ached everywhere, and they were both hot and sweaty, covered in spunk, panting as they still came down from their sex-high. But it did seem right. It was right. He shifted awkwardly, then groaned when Blair shifted as well, separating from him with a wet, squelchy-sounding noise.

There was silence then, for long enough that Jim started to wonder if he'd really said the words aloud, or only imagined it, then Blair's voice, hoarse and rusty, floated back to him. "I love you too, Jim."

The only thing left to do after that was to close his eyes and revel in the sensation of the pain and warmth and good achiness moving through his body. He shivered when Blair rolled behind him and traced each welt with his tongue, breathing cool air onto the heat. He shivered again when warm lips touched the back of his neck, then his ear, a low, soft voice easing him into an exhausted sleep with words that didn't mean anything and sounds that meant everything.

*****

It took Jim a moment when he woke to realize he was awake. Awake, eyes open, curled onto his side, with Blair against him.

Watching him.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile stretching his face. Blair's answer spread across his own, dark-blue eyes gleaming at him.

"Hey, yourself. How're you feeling?"

He considered the question; it wasn't one that could be answered with a simple "good, bad, whatever" sort of answer. It demanded he take everything into account.

"I...ache. My ass feels like someone striped it." Jim smiled, surprising himself at the humor trickling through him. Blair raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"You're hopeless, Ellison. Completely hopeless. What else?"

"For the first time in...longer than I can call to memory, I feel...relaxed. I don't feel...like there's anything...missing."

"Good." If Jim didn't know better, he'd swear there was smugness in Blair's voice. He shook his head, laughing softly.

"What time is it?"

"Almost time to get up. I cleaned us up last night and threw some extra blankets over us; you never so much as twitched, man."

Jim shook his head. "I don't remember anything after--" He looked away, then back at Blair. "I meant that, though. I wouldn't say that lightly. I love you."

Dark, solemn eyes met his, then Blair kissed him, a surprisingly gentle kiss, a brush of lips across lips. "I meant it too, man. I love you."

"I don't think I'll--need this often." He tested the dull throb against rolling onto his back, wincing and groaning when heat immediately flared and the dull roared into acute.

"Doesn't matter if you needed it every day, Jim. We'd figure something out. We'd manage. I'm just glad I could give you what you needed."

Jim rolled back onto his side and kissed Blair, not a gentle, teasing kiss, but one of promise and fulfillment. When they parted he smiled; the sun had come out, banishing the shadows to nothing but memory. "You always do, Chief. One way or another, you always do."

~~Finis~~


End file.
